The Butterfly Effect
by Phoenix Espeon
Summary: What if the Oracle had never made the Big Three prophecy? What, then, would have become of Percy, Thalia, Nico, overshadowed by their older siblings and trying to prove themselves amidst Kronos’s covert plans? AU, slightly mauled. T for language/violence
1. The First Divergence

---

A/N: Hello ladies and gents, and welcome to the ramblings of a mad mind.

In short, this is an _AU_ fic. As in Alternate Universe. Got it? You should have been alerted to this by the summary "AU, slightly mauled." And by slightly, I mean very. This means I can and will mess with details such as prophecies, plots, relative ages, and so on. So don't come whining to me about how Thalia is not Percy and Ananbeth's age, how Luke is Hermes counselor before he goes all evil, all that stuff. Oh, and how there's no House of Death (you'll find out later). I DON'T CARE.

This is also operating under the assumption that prophecies are _self-fulfilling_. Don't make a prophecy, events play out differently because people aren't scrambling all over themselves to avoid it. After all, if there had been no ban on the Big Three's children, would the prophecy still apply to Percy, definitely _not_ the first to turn sixteen?

I will _also_ warn you that OCs run rampant. Mind, I will still do my best to keep the canon characters the focus of this – but hey, OCs are fun. So if that annoys you (and I apologize if this offends you) stick a sock in it.

Now that we have that over with, please enjoy the show.

---

The First Divergence

The only thing that Percy Jackson absolutely hated about his cabin was that his older siblings were far too fond of violence.

Take this morning, for example. Percy had, without fail, been woken up by the conch shell. While he _had_ attempted to roll over and grab a few more minutes of sleep (it wasn't like the bathrooms _wouldn't_ be swarmed first thing in the morning), that attempt had failed. This time it was Celina's fault. Celina had thrown a pillow at him and yelled something about lazy little brothers. Percy normally had nothing against Celina – actually, she was kind of _nice_ once you got past the violent tendencies. But interrupting any opportunity to sleep was one of the worst acts possible, at least according to Percy. Percy had, of course, returned the favor – _and_ her pillow (at a high velocity). Not that Celina cared, since she'd caught her pillow, which was really disappointing.

"And that's why I hate my family," Percy explained, waving his hand vaguely in the air.

"You need to work on your throwing arm," Annabeth criticized him.

"Pfft," Thalia scoffed, carefully balanced in a lower branch. "Wait'll you hear what Seth did to Stark. Okay, what _Stacey_ did to Stark."

"You mean the pretty boy who tried to hit on Jasmine Huang?" Annabeth asked.

"I remember that," Percy chimed in. "It was _epic_. Especially the part where she threatened to rip out his pancreas with a spork."

"I'm still not entirely sure that's possible," Annabeth muttered.

"Anyway, back to Matt Stark," Thalia said. "Didn't you hear the screaming this morning?"

"Not really," Percy and Annabeth admitted in unison. Annabeth added, "I thought it was _normal_ to start Thursdays with screaming."

Thalia snickered. "So basically, Stark leaves this little wind-up bunny in a box for Stacey. Everyone thinks it's adorable (except me, but you know, no one listens to me) so Stacey winds it up and it starts dancing in a circle and Stark's recorded himself singing this love song. It's actually kinda cool. Except he's singing to Alexis. You know, Aphrodite girl, Stacey's mortal enemy. Frickin' hilarious."

"So what did Seth do?" Annabeth asked, referring to the incredibly overprotective counselor of the Zeus cabin.

"Oh, him," Thalia yawned. "He barges into the Hermes cabin, threatens to, and I quote, 'eviscerate you if you even think about my kid sister the wrong way'. And of course Stacey is cheering him on the whole way, except when he calls her his kid sister. Then she throws the rabbit at Seth, except Stacey's aim _sucks_, so she hits Stark instead. And then his head started bleeding. Apparently metal toys are sharp. And anyway, it was really boring. Haley's such a stick in the mud – she refused to let Seth even get his spear so he could shish-kabob Stark or something," the daughter of Zeus shrugged.

"How do you spell eviscerate?" Annabeth wondered.

"Who cares?" Percy asked.

"Oh, shut _up_, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth scowled. "Hey, where's Luke?"

"He got caught trying to _sneak away_ while Stark was whining like a baby," Thalia said in a sing-song voice normally reserved for children under the age of eight. "So Haley stuck him on archery duty. Luke's lucky he's not the _target_."

"So Seth hasn't noticed you're gone yet?" Annabeth asked.

"How should I know?" Thalia shrugged. "He mighta."

"Nathan wouldn't," Percy muttered. The head of the Poseidon campers, unlike Seth, didn't really care what his siblings did, so long as none of them died. Percy appreciated this, as he really didn't want to be ordered around all the time like the Zeus counselor was prone to doing. Percy and Thalia glanced over at Annabeth.

"I'd give Livvy another ten minutes before she asks Malcolm," Annabeth estimated. "We should probably head back now, shouldn't we?"

Thalia swung down quickly from her branch, landing with a soft thump on the thick grass. Despite their morning meetings, Thalia still disliked heights. Annabeth followed, and Percy scowled. This was the part he _dreaded_ – despite the fact that Percy had no problems climbing up the branches, getting down was a different story. He couldn't begin to count the number of bruises, scrapes, and scratches he'd acquired by landing the wrong way. Thalia liked to call him a cat because of this, and Luke often joined in when possible.

Annabeth grinned at Percy. Even after only one summer, Percy knew exactly what that grin meant – _betcha can't do it, Seaweed Brain_. Thalia, noticing this, put her hands at the crown of her head and waggled them in a painfully bad imitation of cat ears, snickering the whole time. With a scowl, the son of Poseidon dropped from the tree. He landed hard, but at least it was on his feet and not on, say, his spine.

"So there," he glowered. Annabeth laughed, jabbed his ribcage with an elbow in a way that was _probably_ supposed to be friendly, and ran off, beginning their customary race to the main activities area. Thalia followed at a slower pace, mumbling something about whippersnappers and feeling old. Overhead, the sun was bright, marking another beautiful day at Camp Half-Blood. With summer approaching its height, it seemed like nothing could possibly be wrong in the world.

---

A/N: God I hate filler/exposition. =.= At _least_ three more chapters of this! _Argh_… I need to work on getting more plot time.

Oh, by the way, anyone wanna be a beta? Mostly I need someone to bounce plot ideas off of and annoy with senseless chatter. Preferably someone who types grammatically correct and all that, 'cause I could use someone to double check my stuff.

Now let's see if I'll actually finish this (the smart money's on _no_).

---


	2. The Runaway

---

The Court of Orthrys

She was beginning to regret her flight when the daughter of Gaia found her.

To be honest, Alanna never planned very well. This would probably be a side effect of being a demigod, since most of the half-bloods Alanna knew were very bad at planning (Athena kids excluded, as they were just annoying enough to have a mother who specialized in strategy). Her "plan" had consisted of grabbing the small handful of drachmas she'd saved, packing her backpack with a change of clothes, and crossing the borders in the early morning, after the harpies had gone and before the camp woke.

Three days later, she was out of money, both drachmas and dollar bills, and wandering the streets of Chicago, feeling completely lost.

Alanna was highly aware of how embarrassing she must have looked – her long red hair was tangled and unkempt, the oversized silver Artemis Hunting Tour T-shirt she'd purchased from the camp store for the sole reason of pissing off her siblings was torn across one shoulder and her lower back, and her jeans weren't in much better condition. Not to mention the sword she was carrying unashamedly in the open – she would _much_ rather deal with the mortals' confused attempts at seeing through the Mist than an encounter with a monster with no weapon, but it didn't exactly do wonders for her self-esteem. Sometimes it seemed that was the only thing she had in common with most of her siblings – all of them tended to worry about their appearances.

The girl continued on, grumbling something about stupid siblings and stupid Hunters under her breath. A casual observer might have thought she didn't care about the strange looks she was getting, but her ears were redder than her hair (although, to be fair, it was more coppery to begin with), and her stride was far faster than normal. On the bright side, it was quickly darkening, so maybe people wouldn't notice (_hah_. _As _if, noted the cynical part of her mind. Alanna quickly told it to shut up).

Out of the corner of her eye, Alanna saw a flash of movement, something large and dark. Normally she wouldn't have cared, but the only thing that would be _that_ big was either a very crabby polar bear or a monster. Alanna was fairly sure polar bears didn't come in black, and a monster attack was _definitely_ not necessary at the moment.

The redhead whirled in alarm, sword raised, for once able to ignore the part of her mind that obsessed about looking like a lunatic. The dark blur had slowed, standing about ten feet in front of her. It was definitely a hellhound, as large as a truck, and its tail was wagging so enthusiastically Alanna could swear she felt the tremors through the streets.

What was of _greater_ interest was the girl perched on its broad shoulders, studying Alanna with leaf-green eyes. Apparently _she_ didn't care about her appearance, if the straggly, dirty-blonde hair and obviously worn clothes were anything to judge by. Naturally, Alanna was stuck wondering why in the name of Hades a little kid was riding a hellhound. She didn't even _look_ like a daughter of Hades, and those were the only half-bloods she could think of that might be able to get all snuggly with a monster (and only _certain_ ones).

The kid was the one who broke the silence first. Leaning her chin on one fist, she tilted her head slightly to one side. "Hello, Alanna Renard," she greeted the daughter of Aphrodite.

Alanna, doing her best to ignore the hellhound's multiple sets of jaws, was unsure how _exactly_ to respond to the kid, who couldn't have been more than nine. She managed to scrape together a (lame), "Umm… who're you?"

The girl blinked slowly, which was really starting to get on Alanna's nerves. "My name is Cynthia Thyme. I would like to ask you if you would care to aid in the revolution against the Olympians."

For some reason, Alanna instinctively expected an ominous crash of lightning or something along those lines when the girl – Cynthia – mentioned "revolution" and "Olympians" in the same sentence. When nothing happened, Alanna proceeded to blink like a retarded owl. "That's _possible_?"

"Oh yes," Cynthia assured her, absentmindedly kneading her small fingers in the hellhound's shaggy fur. "Our forces are growing, and while it may take years, it will almost certainly occur within our lifetime. As it stands, I'm sure you would appreciate the chance to exact revenge upon the gods and their children, who cast you out based solely on your parentage. And even if you do not accept, you are quite welcome to come and recover your strength among us. We do not discriminate by birth, Miss Renard."

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alanna wondered vaguely where a kid learned to speak so formally (not to mention her _name_). The part that wasn't busy being distracted seized upon the offer. "I'm coming."

"Good." Without any visible or audible prompting, the hellhound knelt, allowing Alanna to clamber up its leg, which was harder than it sounded with her sword still clutched in one hand. Cynthia helped her up the rest of the way before whistling once, shrilly. With a joyful bark, the hellhound leapt forward, large paws thudding only once on the Chicago sidewalk before a wall of black leapt up to swallow them whole.

---

A/N: Okay, fine, a better title for this would be "The Butterfly Effect and a Multitude of Random OCs", but that's not as catchy. Oh, and I feel obligated to mention that in my universe hellhounds have two mouths and a third eye in the middle of their foreheads. I'm not entirely sure why.

Oh, and if any of you care what Cynthia looks like six years from this chapter (most of this fic will take place then), see sinceritydawn(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/The-Children-of-Gaia-123212829 Then add lots of emo. I should mention this chapter occurs _before_ the first chapter by… I think four years. Otherwise I'm sure people will get confused.

---


End file.
